In Principle, Any Abstraction Of The Object

We Will Enjoy Ourselves With The Forms That Are Given Us: A Human Face, A Hand, The Breast Of A Woman Or The Body Of A Man, A Glad Or Sorrowful Expression, The Infinite Seas, The Wild Rocks, The Melancholy Language Of The Black Trees In The Snow, The Wild Strength Of Spring Flowers And The Heavy Lethargy Of A Hot Summer Day When Pan, Our Old Friend, Sleeps And The Ghosts Of Midday Whisper. This Alone Is Enough To Make Us Forget The Grief Of The World, Or To Give It Form.

I Hardly Need To Abstract Things, For Each Object Is Unreal Enough Already, So Unreal That I Can Only Make It Real By Means Of Painting.

What I Want To Show In My Work Is The Idea Which Hides Itself Behind So-called Reality. I Am Seeking For The Bridge Which Leans From The Visible To The Invisible Through Reality. It May Sound Paradoxical, But It Is In Fact Reality Which Forms The Mystery Of Our Existence.

The Metaphysics Of Substance. The Strange Feeling Which Comes Over Us When We Sense: This Is Skin - This Is Bone - All In A Single Vision That Is Completely Unearthly. The Dreaminess Of Our Existence Mixed At The Same Time With The Indescribably Sweet Illusion Of Reality.

My Heart Beats More For A Raw, Average Vulgar Art, Which Doesn't Live Between Sleepy Fairy-tale Moods And Poetry But Rather Concedes A Direct Entrance To The Fearful, Commonplace, Splendid And The Average Grotesque Banality In Life.